


Thirst

by Bee_Knee



Series: Grievous Does Stuff [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Body Horror, Gen, Grievous takes a steamy shower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:42:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29412837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bee_Knee/pseuds/Bee_Knee
Summary: Sifo-Dyas wasn't just used as a blood transfusion. The Geonosians cut him up and made him replace General Grievous's organs.Now he lives in Grievous as a Force ghost and both must endure hell together.(Temporary one-shot. Make future chapter suggestions via comment.)
Series: Grievous Does Stuff [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860991
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Thirst

The stars were screaming again.

Sparking sparking, like snapped limbs wretched from droid-metal.

The glass was pristine. Space's embrace was endless and quiet.

General Grievous clutched his head tight, desperately blinking to clear the horrible lubricant those cursed Geonosians shoved into his precious eye sockets, years ago.

He saw it, reflected on the glass. Endless hooks sliced through charred muscle, separating fatty strands into fine sinew. Nerve endings were plucked from the mess, the treasure once buried.

Grievous was awake, so very awake. The Geonosians didn't give mercy. Nothing to remove pain they'd insisted: a bad reaction, a wrong measurement, not worth the trouble at all.

There was screaming but no sound. The bones of his face gone, his jaw turned garbage.

The General's nerves never recovered from such an extraction, and he shifted left and right, the memories sticking like his gooed eyes.

Grievous's flesh had been liberated; but his very spirit, had been murdered.

Fortunately, the expanse of space was sweetly alluring during the nocturnal rotation and a General's terrors could be banished into the cold, iron nothing.

It was at these times, when the organic crew retired and the droids turned motionless: Grievous dared to think.

To reflect, to feel...it was painfully confusing. Grievous was numb, he didn't want to move. He was content to stare.

Or so Grievous told himself, as the stars flickered an incomprehensible distance away.

Was he actually thinking, or was it in reality the computer stabbed into his brain?

Already, Grievous could hear Sifo-Dyas laughing.

The Jedi adored any hint of existential terror, treating fear from Grievous as if it was a fine flavored vintage. Apparently, creeping so close to death had turned the once diplomatic and optimistic Jedi, into a dark grey slab of filth.

"Dramatic and astute as always, Grievous." It was Sifo, a voice silent to the outside, but very real, to Grievous.

"Shut up, Sifo."

Good, the Jedi spirit always served as a distraction, and only the starry void served as audience. 

Still, Grievous's eyes flickered side to side. One could never be too careful about reputation.

He was talking to himself.

Grievous could feel Sifo-Dyas writhing in his chest, scratching at the inner surface of the durasteel plates.

Thankfully the pair had learned long ago what movements Sifo could make without causing Grievous great pain.

In that moment the scratches tickled, and Grievous scrunched his eyes up as a reluctant giggle left his vocorder.

The stars were no longer screaming, but their shine was merciless. Grievous's eyes were thick with mucus as they struggled with the mere act of staring ahead, glaring into nothingness, the great freedom of space. His body, a trap, a metal tomb.

He wanted to be free. He wanted to be outside. Sifo wanted to be too.

"Oh hush, at least we're trapped together."

Grievous sighed, closing his eyes. He wanted to be alone, to have quiet.

But the Jedi specter was never inclined to grant it. 

He was so tired.

Sifo-Dyas and Grievous could find nothing else to do most days when trapped on a ship. They didn't need food or drink, yet fulfilling wants and longings remained an entirely elusive endeavor.

Those cruel, torturous Geonosians blessed them to never have to eat or to drink again, but Grievous could feel his dry, shriveled tongue, the uncomfortable pressure of it against his skinned nostrils; it was packaged meat, sandwiched underneath the remains of his splintered skull and metallic faceplate.

Grievous was so thirsty, but he couldn't drink; so he simply stared, pinning his attention to space rather than his ungodly thirst.

The Geonosians had explained that keeping his tongue intact allowed him to have a sense of smell. His kind, the Kaleesh, had an uncanny, almost supernatural ability to pick out the faintest hint of a scent. Apparently his sponsors and Count Dooku, whom ordered his cybernetic-transformation, saw fit to keep his smell in place.

For that Grievous was thankful, he relied on it more than sight. He couldn't imagine how boring the world would be without smell; but, there was a glaring drawback.

Sifo-Dyas's smell was consistently putrid; his remains filled Grievous's chassis as a slimy, puffy corpse.

"You know...you could take a bath if I smell that bad," thought Sifo-Dyas.

Grievous sighed. Every thought, every memory, Sifo-Dyas could access in some way. The two were so wedged together they might as well have shared the same mind; but Grievous had no ability to access Sifo-Dyas's thoughts…just whatever musings Sifo projected into his mind...not fair at all…

Grievous's thirst was becoming unbearable. He itched underneath his faceplate, where his chin used to be.

His claws traveled down his black, serpentine neck...itching to tear it open.

He was thirsty...very thirsty…

*"Grievous, just go take a bath already!"*

Sifo shouted into the mental ether.

Grievous flinched. Every time Sifo talked, it was intrusive to his thinking.

Slowly, he removed his claws from his neck, pausing to rub it gently...

"Fine!" Grievous snapped. Reluctantly, he turned from the ship-windows.

He'd been staring long enough anyway.

Grievous's personal washroom was right ahead, as pristine and clean as the day he got it, save for the claw gashes marring every surface.

He stepped into the shower stall. His head touched the ceiling and he had to crane his neck to get it down to water-level.

"There, isn't this much better?"

Grievous said nothing, letting out a primitive chirp as scalding water rushed over his head. It felt wonderful, but as the water dripped down to Sifo, his delicate remains scrambled in protest.

"Damnit Grievous, not so hot! We've been over this!" Sifo hissed. His chest grew heavy as flesh pressed against scalding metal.

Yes, they'd been over plenty of things.

Grievous just stared ahead, at nothing in particular.

He just wanted to enjoy the few precious seconds he had.

Sifo couldn't take the scalding for long. Angry, boney hands found the crude remnants of Grievous's nerves, slathered against his ribcage like wiring.

Sifo smashed his inky decayed knuckles against the precious bundles.

Time slowed as Grievous buckled to his knees, not screaming but letting out a dignified hiss as he fell over.

Reluctantly, the water was twisted to a reasonable temperature. Grievous's claws hovered uncomfortably over his chest, where Sifo was calming down.

He'd hoped the scalding would've melted away Sifo's filth, but as black ichor pooled underneath them, Grievous snatched up a soap ration.

The soap bar molded into a lump against Grievous's molten claws. Hot metal was extremely pleasurable to Grievous; he could actually feel it, understand it, unlike other sensations.

As his durasteel chassis opened, Sifo squirmed, as not only hot soap hit him, but claws sizzled against wet flesh.

Grievous fixed Sifo with a glare, eyes heavy and glazed over as he began to lather the mass of necrotic tissue. He was cleaning a carcass; a futile task.

As the surface tissues scrubbed away, portions for twice the amount were found underneath.

Two brittle hands shot out to fight his scrubbing, human-shaped and relatively harmless. Extending his second set of hands, Grievous gently pinned Sifo's arms aside, and picked up another bar of soap to work faster.

Bone fragments wrapped in pustules and countless marbled eyes of fat were cradled against Sifo's black flesh. Grievous swore he saw the expanse of space, once or twice, as he did his best not to see what he was doing.

The bone fragments had to go and were many in mutation. Using claws to dig the pieces free, the bones crumbled into a brown paste with the consistency of sponge cake.

"Ahh, you kriffen bastard!" Sifo screamed. The carcass became alive as it trembled from the touch, nowhere to flee. It was but a greasy trapped beast; like a deep water mussel left without a shell.

It wasn't silent, but very real. Sifo shook his arms free, raking blindly in no set direction.

A claw had accidentally pierced an eye, not bone. It popped loose, unplugging a trickle of genuine, red blood.

Grievous decided to conclude his cleaning then. Sifo wouldn't cooperate after that blunder. Within the washroom containers he took out a tube of bacta-paste, slathering the entirety of Sifo in a generous coating, calming the pitiful creature down.

Both the paste and flesh became indistinguishable, all a rotting green.

The paste prevented infection and covered up whatever smells Grievous failed to address; otherwise, he would've been worried. One good punch and Sifo was done for.

The Jedi had begged for death in the past. In fact, Grievous was surprised Sifo hadn't asked again.

Sifo resembled a burnt, chunky pudding.

It was common when the pain came; common in Jedi, common in the weak. 

When it was over, Grievous reclined down against the shower floor.

"Well, now do I smell better, Grievous?" A cavalcade of laughter began to bounce around his head. 

Shower condensation began to gather against every surface of the washroom. The droplets glittered like stars.

He was so thirsty.

Grievous said nothing. He could only stare.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I've noticed a distinct lack of Sifo-Dyas in Star Wars fics (despite the fact Sifo was used for Grievous's BLOOD) so I sought to help remedy the situation.
> 
> This one-shot is actually in the works for additional chapters, but I have other projects to attend to first and this one stands nicely on its own for now.
> 
> If you liked it, feel free to share ideas and feedback below. Who knows, maybe I'll be inclined to include said ideas in upcoming chapters. The ones already done are a delightful slaughter.


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